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Analise Quinn Jul 2016
My Country Tis of Thee,
Sweet land of liberty-
Or so we sing.

Land where my fathers died-
But my forefathers died in a battle
Trying to keep their slaves;
My fathers killed your fathers
For trying to run away;
My fathers **** your fathers
Cause it's late at  night, and
He's reaching for his gun-no, wait,
His ID?

Land of the pilgrim's pride-
But so often we leave out of history
How if it weren't for a Native American,
The pilgrims would've died.

From every mountainside-
Like Stone Mountain in Georgia,
Where Rebel Generals are memorialized,
Where the **** was revived-
God, help me, I can't hear freedom's ring;
I can only hear white-washed history.

From every mountainside-
But these days, the mountain is in my chest,
And liberty's ring sounds a lot different,
And a lot of folks don't like it.

Let freedom ring-
And I want to fight for freedom for all-
#BlackLivesMatter-
I want to help-
HANDS UP, DON'T SHOOT!
But-
I
Can't
Breathe.

Let freedom ring!-
But peaceful protests turn into
Bloodbaths as those who have sworn
To serve and protect are sniped down.

Let freedom ring!-
I try to educate myself
On the side of history not taught-
I've always felt that Nat Turner was the bad guy,
But these days I'm questioning it.
I read "The Meaning of Fourth of July for the *****"
by Frederick Douglass
And I read "Bury Me in a Free Land"
by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
and I read "Sympathy"
by Paul Laurence Dunbar
and I read "Letters from Birmingham Jail",
"The Mountaintop Speech", and
"I Have a Dream"  
by Dr. King.

When I was younger,
I'd research Dr. King & his colleagues
For fun.
I'd  wonder, "If I lived in the Civil Rights era,
What would I have done?"

But when I turned seventeen,
I realized, "I live in a Civil Rights era;
What am I going to do?
Samuel Lombardo Jan 2015
For thirty-three years I have been
the person for the abuse, power, and
long-suffering coming from others.
For thirty-three years, I've been ****** up.
My love may have seem real, but
to others love was surreal to fantasy.
I am *******-
the trail of the inevitable battles
over my head-
from uncle to brothers to
an angry *** grandfather who
took my dignity in the grave with him.
Yet, this uncle still walks freely
through the doors and walkways,
and up and down hills-
I am *******.
What justice I seek- only
a hush for repentance
and forgiveness- but I been
through the gates of hell-
from entrance to another,
his tool goes wild, and I am
forced to kick the teeth out of
his mouth-
And when growing and showing up
to the faces of the universe,
I have lived the fear of rejection and hate-
all I have experienced was rejection and hate.
There is no one who understands-
the story of my life.
The assaults of ***, physical abuse, and
tyranny I have was the demon I want no more.

The guilt of my mind-
the obedience of such gross fantasies  
and the tears I share of lost
friendships have made an angry face.
But for thirty-three years nothing has
worked for me- there has to be a new path:
I had to seek repentance and forgiveness,
for hatred had to dispel from the love I
had for others.

This angry face had been exchanged
for a phat face-
the face of love, peace, and understanding;
it was the inspiration of a friend whom I
am now confused.
I am confused of dispelling love for hate
when I been living with fear.
Rejection and hate was my life-
and it became a demon in my life.
This person was drawn to my life to love me-
not love me physically,
but the love that shows my life
living in fantasy.
I was blamed to be a predator-
a reputation ruined by third party wanna-be's.
My fear was confirmed when rejection
called my name in the name of evil,
and hatred became what my friend used.
This was the person I never shared my
problems, because of his rejection.

Why was he a part of my life?
What brought us together?
I am not the **** in the closet-
I am the hetro living in the dark.
I had nowhere to go, and I
trusted that this could be discussed.
And here I thought I was weak.
I have been through so much
that it hurt me to see my best friend go.

I became angry faced-
the loss of friendship over
my actions, now blamed for
harassment and stalking when
I see surveillance in the eyes
of my life.
Why do I have to learn this lesson?
Who do I learn with?
Where is my understanding?
Why do they not understand?
I am none of the things the
universe declares me; and yet
no light they cannot see in me.
Why did you fake me?
Why do you block me of my
freedom to say my story?
What is your story?
What love do you have if
someone sniped me?

I changed my view on love,
because the hate I've been
misjudged on for thirty-three years.
This ******* society is so messed up;
I have to live according to a
controlling and confused society.
You are like the rest-
put an act on, in front of friends,
and then when trouble comes
or the annoying person is
around, your on your way
to the hermit station.
I do not understand you;
I was not able to find
peace within you; and
I am confused about your love.
In fact, the only confirmation
I got was when someone else
said I tricked them until a
business gig that was never paid.  
And when I was blamed for lying,
I knew you people only put me out.
The most hateful thing to do is to lie
about one thing to save your reputation
to ruin others.
The reality is that you place angry faces
on those you love, but do not
understand agape for your own fantasies
are stuck elsewhere.
I am still trying to put the pieces together,
but I do know where the missing pieces are-
they are connected to you-
Until you understand the agape love-
we will both be missing love and peace
for each other in disguised of hatred.
You only hide me to forget me,
but it is the Heavenly hosts who destined us.

I now seek spiritual guidance;
I need to forget you;
I need to understand why I should;
And while I wish you begin to
understand, I realize that this, too
only a fantasy.
I only ask that someone take away
this rejection and hatred from me.
I fear that I will not see my
friend, again-
but who wants someone in their
life who is not understanding,
always faking me in front of others
than hiding me inside a closet-
abusing power over love?
I only know rejection and pain,
who wants to introduce me to
the Happy Face?

It is music which I found you;
It was the creative mind-
when you turned to the left side,
your subconscious has taken away
the right brain empathy,
which was taken for me.

Only hope is what is left;
The hope for new
found agape love and peace.
Let me allow my story-
let me allow my understanding;
let me allow you to tell me.
This poem could be quite graphic,due to the intended message of abuse, obsession, assault, and the fact that I lost friends who gave me more pain.  The idea of this poem is to allow people the opportunity to feel free to express their situation, and to let others who been through this know that I am feeling their pain, too.
Drunk poet Jul 2016
She died a year ago,
But so pathetic I wasn’t around during,
Her funeral,
Air would have protested against my loud dirge,
There would have been series of enjambment
In the stanzas of my her elegy.

General Abas said she died in a ****** coup,
But she was too wise to be wiped out in a coup,
She was like untamed lion.

Mr George gave another account,
He said she died during an internal war,
The war against the truth,
She has been from truth,
Too blind to see reality,
Fast asleep to be woken up.

The family doctor said she was poisoned,
Poisoned with the truth,
The truth that kills rather to set free.

Inspector James said she was sniped
From a fair perimeter.
The mortuary attendant said they
Heared movement,
Guess she was just try to raise up.

Today I arrive with nothing to feed my eye,
A little bit nostalgic,
I had the feeling that I belong here but not to death,
So I left for the yard, at the backyard,
I couldn’t belive what I saw on her gravestone,
“Nigeria a country, not a nation”
It was just one of those days
when the haze of summer had just started to lull the suburbs
into a sticky heat
of grills and lawn mowers
of air conditioning
(everyone pretended not to use it; windows! barked the mothers, windows!)

and the sweat stuck to the brows
of the life guards
napping in the sun
above an empty pool
the Dawson pool.

No one ever swam there
and the lifeguards knew it
those teenagers, sunning themselves lazily on hot days like this
(and the mothers! They complained about the tans. Cancer! the said.
In a way they were right,
but really.)

The waters were clear but the fences were rusted
the diving boards were falling
throwing themselves off the deep end

Katydids
lawnmowers
those lazy days
and the mothers! the constant nagging of soccer moms
lulled around the pool
on the day
Cassandra
took her
last
swim

Her face was like shoe leather
tanned by no fewer than 98 summers spent on porch swings
plodded slowly,
like  her feet were considering
every
last
step
this woman presented her 5 dollars to the girl at the gate
(some surprised lifeguard, because, you see, no one ever swam in Dawson pool)
and pushed inside.

Cassandra never left her porch.
and the mothers! how they scolded their children for teasing her
(even though they had done the same thing at that age.
That's how old Cassandra was).
Decades of the suburbs
and push mowers
and world wars
stayed like photograph around her face.

The lifeguards stared.
Cassandra kicked off her flip flops and shrugged off her mumu.
In a pink bathing suit she sank into the water.

The age melted off of her as she danced through the water
graceful
strong
the strokes were slow and deliberate
and the lifeguards watched as she pulled herself from one end of the pool to another and back.
She made 16 rings
remembering her childhood
23 more
for her marriage
and then 60
60 rings!
before she stopped.
60 years old, the year her husband died.
The year she had stopped talking
aside from the hushed prayers in church
but she was talking to him; that didn't count.
60 rings.

And Cassandra just disappeared.

No one found the body
no one found anything
aside from flip flops and a mumu.
The lifeguards were nearly scandalized
for letting Cassandra drown
but soon she went from a news story to a ghost
and the mothers! sniped at their children
for whispering
"Did you here about old Ms. Cassandra?
They say she found God."
Kagey Sage Nov 2021
Learn to write again
learn to type right
first time in 3 decades of life

I want to write closer to when I think
speed time, to slow it
make it feel like I do more
like I was in my teens or early twenties
****, these days 3 go by and it feels like one

I count my blessings to build confidence
Life grows more cruel but
I might win if I act like already won
Chaos magick, nay we do not speak of it

You forgot to pretend
to suspend quests for rationality
No longer moved by a book or film
We conditioned to be unconditioned
only to realize we ought to been wistfully in the herd
the whole time  
We're the Bodhisattvas forestalling enlightenment
to get drunk with the butchers
after decades of sober high ground
We're the over-analyzers
lamenting our anachronisms in self-assuring
new philosophies
Either fully embrace one or drop out of being smart at all
the only tolerable choice to start to enjoy life again
No, no it's a false dichotomy
I want to be the eternal well-wisher
no matter the decadent displays

The shared dream of a soon to be future
We scavenge and defend
through pockmarked streets
make shelters amid crumbling concrete
We forgot how to imagine a secure society
Measured expectations and social safety nets
they took it all away along with our balanced serotonin
I used to get all jazzed up over a library book
but now the images promise us much more bliss
right around the corner

But it never soothes
never comes close  
We cannot buy the contentment you claimed to offer
so we'll get it in collapse
We'll be sniped, starved, and deranged
but the thought of that life
makes us whisper excitedly to ourselves
"finally something has happened to me."

I, the eternal well-wisher
will wag no more fingers at preachers of death
Neither will I become them nor pity them
Curt A Rivard Sr Mar 2013
Today’s key stroke painted tale started a few short days ago
When his father found him on the bathroom floor and with no blood flow
Why are your lips blue and why is that belt again wrapped around your arm?
O’ My God son, look at what you now have really done
You just got out of jail days ago, I been all alone and it wasn’t fun
You promised me you would clean up and stop all that body harm
You’re gone now and with no return, who’s going to help me now run the farm?
An old street friend years ago, he was someone very well, I used to also know
I had to give up that life because I have a much better place I now want to go
Earlier today before I got done slowly processing you, my second ever autopsy case
I vowed to your father, he made me promise and say I would bring you back home safe
And to your brother I’d play all your favorite songs at the start on the ride back
You are now back in your town and inside the best ever made Funeral Parlor
I unzipped your bag so I could see you one last time; I was the last to ever see your face
I then put a letter in your hand so you can take it with you forever into space
Last night after I talked with your Dad and Lil’ J all about your stories
While sipping on Don Julio Tequila I also sniped and saved till today,
And in your other hand you also hold, a piece of the family cactus a rare peddled flower
Slated plan Monday morning is, I’m taking you to your next process
After that, because you were a surfer in CA. growing up as a kid, Lil’ J
Is flying back with your ashes in his arms and then strapping you down onto
Like a surfboard he's helping let you ride the waves in the Pacific Ocean
And that is what you will be doing forever and ever more,
As you always requested, your special never ending moving motion.

R.I.P M S, 2013

(SirCARSr. 3-23-13)
UltraViolent Aug 2017
A billion stars shining up in the sky
One shines brighter how could I deny

Your smile warmed my soul and heart
It sniped into my feelings just like a dart

When I saw you from the first sight
I just felt like hugging you tight

Something about you switched my mind
You're truly special and one of a kind

You're every reason, hope and dream I've had
You're the one I trust and talk to when am sad

You're the person that I truly admire
And the one that my heart really desires

Your voice is like music to my ears
It's the sound of hope that breaks my fears

Your person is what I love the most 
When the world was dull and I was lost

You were there to support my back
It was when I realised what I lack

It was the kindness that you showed me
That cleared my vision to be able to see
What does it feel like?
My little sister asked
Fourteen
Beautiful
The innocent smile
Of a still naive child
Who’s never felt anything more
Than sweaty palms
In a big echoing gym
Forced to dance with an
Awkward eighth grade boy
For phys ed credit
And embarassment
What does love feel like?

Love is the awkward silences
The first time you hang out
And neither of you knowing what to say
Love is being best friends
Love is racing down back roads at night
Windows down
Music blaring
Slamming on the horn
And flashing headlights
And raising hell
Love is pulling an all nighter
To spend one last night together
Even though you have to work
At 5 am
Love is drinking Yoohoo together
Love is sending stupid videos
And care packages
Because his laughter
Is your favorite song
Love is his huge smile
He only shows you
After you tell one of your jokes
That no one else
Thinks are funny
Love is hugs
And smiles
And texts
And sniped photos
And late night phone calls
And life advice
Love is the tears
And the trust
And not wanting to be
With anyone else
Love is being impatient
Wanting to see him again
Before he even leaves
And love is knowing
Every time you’re staring at brake lights
That you’re too perfect to pass up
Probably

So I turn to my sister
Nineteen
Pretty
The watery smile
Of someone too young
To have been through so much
Who’s never known anything
Close to the perfection I seek
Only liars and cheaters
Who’ve left me broken
And empty
And I tell her
Love is
To "the one": Someday I'll have the guts to tell you what should have been said and the knowledge to know I've lost my chance
Your were there ...
In the worse of times.
Your were there in the very best.
You were there when I cried.
My head buried deep into your chest.
Th tears and whimpers and sighs...

And you were there when the sky fell.
The true love of a friend.
Even when I was in hell.
And you were there no matter how many times I died.
You never faltered to the end.
You picked me back up and made me stand.
The true love of a friend.

And it didn't matter how far or low I fell.
You didn't make me feel less of a man.
You were there to make me well.
The true love of a friend.

And when everyone else would pass judgement.
As plain as the eye could see.
The only two left standing. Was just you and only me.
You gave me strength and honor...
When no one gave me slack.
And sniped and back-stabbed and ridiculed...
Behind my hurting back.
You were there when I contemplated suicide.
And because of your love.... I'm still here..
I'm alive...
The true love of a friend.

Only cause you cared.
Only...
You were there.
The true love of a friend.
Jonny Angel May 2014
I remember Corporal Jimmy,
he was always smoking
& could never keep
his mouth shut.

So it was no surprise
the morning
we found out
he had been sniped
the night before.

He had taken two rounds,
one between the eyes
& the other one
ripped his right ear  
completely off.

I heard he had been
snickering
about a joke
& a cigarette was found
stuck between his lips

From then on,
noise & light discipline
was paramount
to our unit.
Adam Nahhass Apr 2018
Under torn roofs, on scattered graves,
Assad soldiers celebrate their end of fight!
Adrift, disbelief devouring souls,
We beat the "terrorists", they still cite!
Carrying Kalashnikovs on their backs,
Scared but looting everything in sight.
We won; this should be our wage;
A chance we may lose despite!

In Syria, massacres become a tradition,
Like father, like son! What a plight!
Ben Ali said before "I understood you"
To KSA, he took the first flight.
Egypt’s Mubarak "got your demands"
Later, he stepped down overnight.
In Syria, neither understood nor could he;
Needless to say, he got a green light!

Homes bombed, children sniped,
A Million died, no end in sight!
Bombs are ringing out the windows,
Raining death hunts Syrians campsite!
Assad media alleging a conspiracy;
ignited a war, Oh! Russians delight!
Maskirovka? Outdated doctrine stupid!
Wild bears never again fly-by-night!

In Duma they used chemical weapons,
innocent children suffocated at night!
Foam coming out of their mouths,
Trying hard to breathe at twilight
There Macron looking for proof!
May you try yourself & feel the rite!
Nature disliked, condemned this act, whilst
Arabs upon condemnation, did not unite!

Trump tweeted! Pushed Assad to evacuate.
Russian warships moved away at daylight!
Do send the fleet & honor those tweets!
Think heaven gates are shining tonight.
No behind-scenes deals, no survival.
Take gas killing animal to nearest waste site.
Pardon me if bothered you President Trump
I wrote you coz we don't sleep at night.

#Chemical_Tweets
Written by : Adam Nahhass
April 13, 2018
Wk kortas Jun 2017
I knew a couple, in that once upon a time
Where fecundity was a going concern in our circle of friends,
Who’d lost another child mid-pregnancy
(It may have been the third time,
As such evils, oddly enough, tend to arrive as a trinity)
They’d fiercely, defiantly given the child a dozen names,
Including each of their saints’ names
(A finger to the eye of certain relatives,
Who’d implied and occasionally outright sniped
Recreation without procreation is the darkest of sins.)
They had, after a fashion, made a certain piece with all that transpired,
God’s will or vagaries of chance or something in-between,
But some weeks down the line the distaff part of the equation
Began to experience something akin to pure madness,
Finding evil portent and intent and all and sundry
Which they’d touched upon during pregnancy:
Doctors, in-laws, her spouse,
Even the fables they’d read to her unborn child
(The tale of the Three Little Pigs singled out for particular scorn;
We live in a ******* house made of brick, and what did that get us?
She all but screamed at her beleaguered husband.)
This all passed after a time, the ceasing of the episodes
Due to the end of some delayed post-partum depression, perhaps,
Or the grim realization that raging against some deaf deity
Is a fruitless, pointless, fretful strut across the stage,
But, in any case, life returned to normal, more or less,
Though her husband found it somewhat disconcerting
How, in the process of doing some semi-necessary remodeling
(Keep her busy, their pediatrician had told him in an aside)
She attacked the old walls in an unused bedroom upstairs
With something very much approximating fury,
The plaster-and-lath flying hither and yon,
The dust hanging in the air everywhere you looked,
Leaving a taste like ashes in their mouths for days afterward.
Silver Heinsaar Aug 2017
Hundred contestants put on an island
Waiting for a sixty-second countdown
Suddenly waking on a plane
Forced to jump to begin their game
Parachutes open all around
Number of players already gone down
I set my course towards the school
Trying to land on its roof
I find a gun with some bullets
Reload it full and equip my helmet
Come across a first aid
People below me throwing grenades
I follow the stairs to the direction of sound
Notice someone in the corner being proned
Helping myself with a red dot
Aim their head and take the shot
A clean ****, my first one
Another behind, trying to run
Turn around, spray my ammo
Now two are killed, i'm feeling like a rambo
Check their bodies, grab their loot
Head to south on foot
Pass by a naked guy asking for a fist fight
I say nope, and do a three-sixty noscope
You don't say... he got away
Have to make haste, no time to waste
Gas is approaching with a rapid speed
Better go for that UV
Drive over the bridge to the military island
Looks like i'm in a final showdown
Take cover on a field
Level three vest as my shield
Knock down few more, only four are left
But it's too late, i've been camped
Two bullets sniped through my head
I placed third and now i'm dead
The cycle continues forever and ever
Or until you get tired
But don't give up, be a winner
Go and get your chicken dinner.
trf Feb 2018
Que voulez-vous de plus de la New Orleans?
Nutria sniped from shotgun shacks,
Horseradish hand grenades, get out of jail free charades.
Oyster forks in Lafourche talk the Trinity,
Those poor boys preceded Sal's Snowballs.

Papa Q raced the tracks; trains and thoroughbreds.
We were pubescent pirates, deck hands for hired luck,
Trifectas bribing our age, thirteen.
'Buted up' horses breaking down, their chalk line finite.

Late Spring, the Jazz rains for dusty crowds,
Like groundhogs gorging crawfish bread in Gospel tents,
Smelling of spices and creole sweat, a serenity treat, home.
Mom's Monday red beans, stirring since Sunday, salivating glands.

Rear view Blues light, chasing 23.8 miles,
Causeway, 'laissez faire' attitudes over Lake Pontchartrain,
When bedding the D.A.'s daughter is my convenient, corrupt plea.
Heir to Napoleonic code, law fallacies And
Alligator alleyways rush youth's normalcy.

The Dr. & Professor bled on all eighty-eight, resonating
From Frenchman to Tips, black and white keys turned red,
Tuning out race or nomenclature, lower wards up garden districts.
Second line's ancestors, parading dead down Marigny, joyfully.
Que voulez-vous de plus de la Nawlins?
How ya mom a dem doing baby?  Happy Mardi Gras, ya heard me!
In the trenches of war, in the dark of the night
Three soldiers grab cigs and a match to ignite
The first one inhales and passes the flame
The second one does exactly the same
The third one however is already dead
Having been sniped straight through the head

Light one if you please and two if you must
But never a third or ashes to dust
I know it makes sense to not waste a match
But on the battlefield there’s always a catch...
Corrupted insights see the mind in excites rites
Immutable bylaws falling jaws from the laws
All caught an applause another right taking away
Deep late Sunday they writing the evil grey
Between black and white stuck with the same sight
Even a blind man could see the foolery
Cookery hickory sweet of the cake bakery
Icy cold world we live in folks wills pushing
Over toilet tissues and towels for clean bowels
Some even murdered over gallons of water
Food it's understood media unreasonable
No doubt check the tunnel rout broke the snout
Aimed at the black habitat wait for that stacks
Stimulus checks keeps us in check disrespect
Economy sinking from the gold eating oil
Spoils under demand supply Charlie man stands
Being closed imposed exposed to the new expos
Distance for instance brings more violence
Silent religion sneaks letters for the stool pigeons
Pigs can fly only when they bullets winging by
Another fry brothers to sistas die in all colors
Wake up it's ultimate shake up as I rake up
Book worm let the germs infect my intellect
Protect from the clean viruses corona
Daytona mind moving grooving soothing
Ya healing crank the adrenaline heart paced
At the fasted rate jalapeno burns court adjourn
We loosing humanity fast with no signs of returns





Politicians big business with morticians
See the folks wishing for a savior reminscing
On a guy who don't even live in the sky why
Ask why grey beards holding pondering
I'm still wondering who is this guy zoning
I can't see a thought let alone God I see me
Images of blemishes first to genesis
Feel this exodus experience death ruckus
Trust us folks in love with fake cannibis
False dealing for miracle healing mass appealing
Reel'd in emotions shattered by the killing
See where we headed to the end of the road
No toads just a plot to implode the globes
Sixty seven mirrors of horrors eyes of Horus
Got ya hooked mind gazed amazed glazed
Into the skies glacier off the rockers statures
Stand straight on shaky ground all around
Clowns in the circus blowing up they circuits
Misfits girls in the see through outfits
While boys tryna hold back on they biscuits
****** hyped while love is smote n sniped
Like Wesley the best of me couldn't even see
Pass three years old now I'm ancient swole
Living off the papyrus scrolls my mind rolls
Off into another dimension intention
To strengthen bring pain to my minions
Victory dominions celebrated while I'm hated
Prices with wise guys keep me with a birds eye
View snafus from casino blues still on a cruise
Voyage to Atlantis drug escape from drug handlers
Pharmacy pill poppin' society socially decline
Rewind back to the beginning of mankind
Greed was plotted from the Greek roots shoots
Down the capitalism imperials just modern prison
Locked in out side freedom hubbles of troubles
No scope I'm dope mailing ya with rhyming quotes
IrieSide Nov 2022
A logical takedown
presented and countered
a mystical gest
and strategic retreat

I squared up with God,
and he was the same

Donned the artillery,
and organized forces
armed as Khan
with the world's finest

I squared up with God,
and he was the same

Targeted his pawns,
the weaker ones
and sniped them
though they grew stronger

I squared up with God,
and he was the same

Disintegrated logic
evaporated power
and fury
replaced by humbleness

I squared up with God,
and he was the same

A breath of defeat,
and a simple recognition
of who it is I'd been wrestling

I squared up with God,
and he was the same
Star BG Jan 2019
For every thought in life a poem, sniped of wisdom or song is hiding.
Peek a boo, I see you.
Just a thought
I want you to expect from me
greatness, loveliness, reject
from me the loser I know resides
in my depths, hides behind
excuses of tiredness, fire this
engine with the thrill of
anticipating excellence,
participating in my self-
annihilation of that little girl
who lost sometimes, who tried
for the joy of it, boy did
she fail, but she also had fun,
her sun has set, and risen
in her stead is this high achiever
who rarely tries, buys favor
with lies, savors the rare
moments of feeling special
and tears flesh from bone
the rest of the time trying
to expose herself to more light,
fighting the instinct to go
extinct at first sight of
being a ******* loser. shoes hurt
and waist aches from sculpting
my body to be high stakes,
steak me through the heart
I've become a vampire
leeching off of the validation
of others, salivation at the
thought of turning you on,
without consideration of my
own pleasure, measure me in
victories please, and don't deduct
all my last places, faces that
set in disappointment of my
false anointment, I'm not the
chosen one, I'm just becoming
the unhappiest version of myself,
a ******* of what could have been
would that I had let go of
being a constant one-woman show
that shocks and awes, causes
locks to unlatch and people to
patch me up with ribbons
and medals, if it's not blue or gold
I'm convinced you won't be sold
on me, and I'm constantly for sale,
frail and fettered as I am, I pale
at the idea that I'm too fat
or thin for you, so much so
I forget what I look like, what
I might be if I knew nobody could
see me, how I long for that
invisibility, an ability to
become a ghostly shape,
mostly vapor and smoke that
could choke the insults I've
heard along my way, why did they say
those things to me? can't they see
how fragile I am, not agile, I can't
dodge the bullets of snide remarks
shot my direction, sniped from afar
and bludgeoning me up close
begrudging acceptance from
those I love most, feeling as
much like a wound as the
untarnished truth, my varnish of
youth is fading, too, and soon I
won't have my age to fall
back on, I lack the small
support that keeps me standing and
I've got canes hidden in my coat
to keep me afloat,
to link this boat to the sky,
so I don't sink but don't get too high.
Heres another wu banger watch the danger jaw arranger
Stranger than fiction pass jurisdiction Christen
Minds from the ointment of a nine shine deeply confined
Cause chaos like Jack Nick off the shine tingle spines
Every word I spit puts haters in line still smoke pines
Trees enjoy the breeze keep it windy flows Pepsi
Crispy with the flavors I rock check the tick tocks Glocks
Rock craniums perform in sold out stadiums podiums
Held like Bane shook the cane sourdough jack
Along with 14 loaves poisonous darts entered the globes
Dipstick the red ****** cloves replenish the self loathes
Big diamond worn on my clothes see my thoughts glow
Langston Hughes to Van Gogh pictures of a crow
**** what ya know we blow spots whips more *** than Joe yo








Check the baggy steelo fashion statement rate this
My performance like Tyson stinging blue hornets
Charlotte still holding a web watching over the pigs
See the thoughts dig a crazy froth from sizzlin' chicken broths
Souls up for ransom feeling like a new P E anthem
Yo address the state of the union see em in confusion
Master sensei fusion melanin activate cause bruisin'
Cruising with Smokey blazin' Robinson holding guns
See my critics is stun way pass number one my cons
Sitting like stages of Ramadon big fish navigatin' ponds
This is for the lost unseen vagabonds Nathan
Can compare to this dare truths to boost the youths tooth's
Chips over the raw hype see how many brothers sniped
Now they mad cuz the blacks emblems finna unite??
Tension rose the heights of a kite on ground or plain sights
Media picking fights with the black and white stereotypes
Cops infused uninformed old **** flags hold tilted unicorns
Switched from whites sheets with holes now they serving
Bullet holes conserve power at the polls see the gains roll
****** Reservoirs bleeding from America the great *****!!!!
There was an amazing dog that could amazingly read books. I wanted to meet this dog. I drove 1,600 miles as fast as I could. I killed several people. Finally I arrived at the dog's house.
   "May I please see the dog that can read books?"
   "He's over there," the dog's owner said.
   "Where?"
   "See that shredded paper? Follow the shredded paper!"
   There were many cubic yards of shredded book pages. I broke into a trot. I had arrived. There he was: THE DOG! The dog was tearing up a large book. "Hey mister! Your dog's tearing up that book. Why's he doing that?"
   "What a dumb-*** question!" The dog's owner sniped. "He always tears up books after he's read them!"
   "Oh, yes of course," I said as if that was the most logical thing that I had ever heard in all my life.
There was an amazing dog that could amazingly read books. I wanted to meet this dog. I drove 1,600 miles as fast as I could. I killed several people. Finally I arrived at the dog's house.
   "May I please see the dog that can read books?"
   "He's over there," the dog's owner said.
   "Where?"
   "See that shredded paper? Follow the shredded paper!"
   There were many cubic yards of shredded book pages. I broke into a trot. I had arrived. There he was: THE DOG! The dog was tearing up a large book. "Hey mister! Your dog's tearing up that book. Why's he doing that?"
   "What a dumb-*** question!" The dog's owner sniped. "He always tears up books after he's read them!"
   "Oh, yes of course," I said as if that was the most logical thing that I had ever heard in all my life.

— The End —